A Midday Lesson
by Hrolfgard
Summary: Master Elodin takes a brief break from his duties at the University to strike up a discussion with the Cthaeh. A one-shot story that seeks to bridge some canon threads and spin completely new ones.


**A Midday Lesson**

The day was bright and warm, as it always was, and the tall, emerald grasses swayed gently with the breeze. The butterflies danced beneath the broad leaves of the tree to form a rainbow of wings and life. _Snip_. A pair of purple wings drifted slowly to the ground, joining the carpet of detached limbs that spread about the tree. _Snip_. Another pair, red this time, from another part of the kaleidoscopic swarm. The breeze gusted gently, sending one of the wings spiraling over the grasses, out of the shade and into the warm light. It drifted slowly down before coming to a rest in a matted tangle of dark hair, where it joined several leaves, none of which matched those of the great tree looming above.

Elodin ignored his new hairpiece. "Good morning!" His voice, strangely resonant at the best of times, filled every nook of silence among the branches and swaying leaves. He was wearing worn travelling clothes – dark trousers and a loose, green shirt – that complemented his broad, carefree smile. The large, wicker picnic basket was all he carried, but it was almost as big as he was. He frowned up at the azure sky. "Good noon?" he asked, giving the tree a look of questioning innocence.

 _Snip_. Another pair of wings drifted to the ground.

"Not in a talking mood? That's unusual, especially for you." His grin returned, lopsided and jocular. "You must be grumpy. Haven't had your snack yet today?"

 _Snip_.

Elodin squinted up at the butterflies. "Are you eating those or just killing them?"

 _Snip_.

"STOP THAT," Elodin cried, the sound of his voice filling the endless sky, "YOU'LL SPOIL YOUR APPETITE!"

"You are being a disturbance, little one. An annoyance, even." _Snip_.

Elodin's smile was reincarnated. "If I had a penny for every time-"

"Your reasons for being here are known to me," the Cthaeh droned, casually eliminating two more butterflies, "you seek the same thing as these… fragile little things." It _snip_ -ed a butterfly pointedly. "You seek one of my flowers to cure your-"

Elodin held up a hand, and interrupted when the Cthaeh kept talking. "You're being most impolite today. You haven't invited me into your shade, we haven't eaten yet, we haven't even opened the ALCOHOL!" His face was the very image of despair. "I'd rather not deal with you while sober, if I can avoid it."

 _Snip_. "You may enter my shade and prepare your meal, mortal. Don't crush too many of the wings, they are…essential." _Snip._

Elodin bowed low and stepped into the shade, severed wings crunching beneath his every step. He was ten paces from the wide trunk of the tree when he stopped, looked around, nodded to himself, and with a flourish produced a checkered red-and-white cloth. He smoothed it out over the carpet of wings and sat down, legs crossed like a child listening to a story. He opened the lid of the wicker basket and the warm scent of fresh bread filled the shadow of the tree. "For your pleasure, m'lord, I have brought only the finest mortal delights," Elodin said, smiling deferentially into the leaves and boughs. He removed the items from the basket slowly, naming each with the pride of a cook. "Fresh-baked wheat bread, a delightful little soup – broth and onions with cheese melted on top – some sennas fruit, and – AH! – the _caer ver caen_ , as they say in Modeg…" he produced a small, round cheese encased in a rind. He pinched his fore- and middle fingers to his thumb and flicked them from his mouth, making a smacking sound with his lips. "Truly a feast for kings!"

 _Snip_. "Are you aware of who you are addressing?"

Elodin's smile was one of a child presenting an adult with his latest masterpiece. "Of course! The great Cthaeh!" He swung his arms about wildly. "The Poison-tongued! The corrupter! The far-seeing Fae!"

"You are aware, then, of my favorite pastime?"

Elodin held up a butterfly wing and hummed happily behind his smile.

The noise the Cthaeh made could have been a sigh, or possibly a groan. "Not that pastime. The other one."  
Elodin nodded cheerily and began to slice into the loaf of bread with a knife he had produced seemingly from thin air. "You like to royally muck things up for everyone else!"

 _Snip_. "That's one way to put it."

Elodin gestured emphatically at the tree with a slice of bread. "Well that isn't going to work on me, mister! I have no weaknesses!" He threw up his arms triumphantly. "I AM INVINCIBLE!" The slice of bread went flying from his grasp and landed just beyond the shadow of the tree. He glared daggers at it and hauled himself to his feet, taking the huge basket with him.

"You are mad," the Cthaeh said as Elodin swaggered over to the piece of bread, basket in hand.

"Good thing, too, otherwise this would probably never work!" Elodin bent to pick up the slice of bread.

 _CLANG._ The picnic basket swung in his hand.

He picked up the slice and walked a few steps further into the sunlight, picking up the arrow that had come to a sudden halt in mid-flight. "My, my," he said to the horizon, "In the past you would have tried to kill me before I could even get here. You all need to practice!"

Three more arrows flew from somewhere in the grasses, each one clanging to a stop midair. The Bloodless that he had 'borrowed' from the Fishery was preforming exactly as he knew it would. He had only slightly doubted Kvothe's artificing skills. "I really don't want to hurt you, friends," Elodin said apologetically to the empty grass, "but shoot one more thrice-damned arrow at me and I swear by God's ember-filled beard that I'll be cross with you."

Three more clangs.

Elodin shrugged resignedly. "Alright then." He raised his free hand to the horizon, the slice of bread loosely grasped between his fingers, and closed his eyes, ignoring the fourth clang. His voice filled the world as his lips parted. "Fire."

And there was fire. A pillar of flame rose on the horizon like the mast of an approaching ship. It flared higher and higher until it seemed it would tear through the clouds, then it widened along the horizon in both directions, creating a five-mile wide circle around the Cthaeh's tree. Elodin pulled his hand towards himself, as if beckoning, and the inferno swept closer until he could almost touch it. The leaves of the tree began to wilt under the heat, and the butterflies crowded ever closer to the trunk. Elodin rotated his raised hand back and forth a few times, then flourished as if he were conducting an orchestra, flicking his arm straight out to his side, and the fire vanished.

 _Snip_. The Cthaeh took advantage of the butterflies' tight cluster. _Snip_. _Snip_.

Elodin laid down the basket and brushed himself off absently. The tall grasses were gone. A vast circle of cracked, blackened earth radiated out from the shadow of the tree. Anything living within five miles was little more than ash on the breeze now. He took a large bite out of the toast he had made, then picked up the wicker basket and strolled idly back to the picnic blanket, plopping himself down with crossed-legs once more. He removed a tin of butter from the basket and spread a thick daub of it over the perfectly-browned toast, then took another large bite, chewing with full cheeks like a chipmunk. "You were saying?" he asked, the words distorted by his mouthful of bread.

 _Snip_. "I know your weaknesses, little mortal. No being, human or fae, has escaped me uninfluenced."

Elodin finished the toast and pulled a water skin out of the basket, taking a sip to clear his throat. "I wonder about that, though. Is that really you, or is it simply that the future happens and you take the credit for bad things? What if…" He raised a defensive hand, predicting the Cthaeh's interruption. "Humor me here. What if you're just an asshole stuck in a tree with a crippling case of boredom?"

 _Snip_. "Theorize as you wish. I am beyond your understanding, human. I am as old as creation itself, as eternal as time."

Elodin unwrapped the handkerchief tied around the soup bowl and lifted the lid, which he used to waft the soup's smell towards his nose. He scrunched up his face and tossed the bowl over his shoulder, sending the steaming contents across the carpet of wings. He reached into the basket and pulled out another bottle. This one was fine dark glass with a scarlet seal of wax over its cork, which he promptly removed. "So," he said, taking a swig, "Let's get down to business."

"You are here for the panacea."

Elodin raised an eyebrow and took another sip. "What would make you say that?"

"You are so very attached to them, aren't you? So very understanding of their…issues."

"Who are we talking about here? You mean my students? I suppose I'm more understanding than Hemme, the rat bastard, but they're mostly feckless tits who can't-"

"Can't chew their own food. You are attached to _some_ more than others."

Elodin smacked his palm into his forehead, epiphany etched across his face. "OH! Of course! I _am_ very proud of Fela. She's such a talented, hardworking young woman. I have no doubt that she'll be a master namer in time."

"What of-"

"OH and _Kvothe_!" He stressed the syllables of the name so it came out as 'ka-VOthe'. "That boy's going places!" He went to take a sip from the dark bottle, but went still before it had reached his lips. "But of course," he said, his voice suddenly as quiet as a stalking cat, "you know exactly where Kvothe is going." He set down the bottle and rested his hands on his legs as he looked up into the depths of the tree, his face blank, unreadable. "You were the one who sent him into the future, or at least that's what you would claim."

"Think not of the boy, mortal. At the very least his sanity is intact, unlike those poor souls locked away in the rookery. You're here to help them."

Elodin's green eyes darkened. "If your flower truly is a panacea, should it not also cure sicknesses of the mind?"

"Indeed. The flower cures all."

Elodin smiled suddenly, wide and predatory. "Which leads to my next question! What do you – or the flower – define as a 'sickness?' Am I healthy?" He knocked his knuckles against the side of his head softly. "Is my sickness simply that I am different from others? Because if so…" He breathed a word. The soft breeze became a gale, blowing the butterflies and the carpet of wings out over the charred earth. The wind died down as quickly as it had risen, and the butterflies returned to the shade as if their lives depended on it. "Because if so, I'd rather stay sick."

 _Snip_. The Cthaeh set about restoring the bed of wings. "You care more for the boy than you think you do. It is too late for you to help him, though. His is a lost cause, a mad hunt for vengeance that will destroy him and all those that he holds dear." _Snip. Snip. Snip_. "I'm quite proud of that one, actually. It has been a long time since I was last able to loose such havoc upon the world."

Elodin held the bottle up against the sun and swirled it about to check its level. He took a sip and placed it down again. "If your view of the future is so flawless, tell me what I am about to do."

The Cthaeh was quite for a moment. _Snip_. "The future will all be decided by what I say next. In all potential outcomes you do something completely unexpected and insane in an attempt to throw my sight. It will fail."

Elodin's boyish grin returned with a gusto. "Wrong!"

 _Snip._ "What do you mean by that, mortal? Surely you don't think you can escape my vision?"

"I'm actually going to offer you a drink!" Elodin held aloft the bottle and swirled it a little so the contents sloshed about within.

 _Snip_. "Keep your drink. I have no desire for it."

"Well at least let me describe it to you!" He didn't wait for an answer. "This is a countryside Barley Wine, and a very good one at that. It has a very distinctive taste, with an earthy hoppiness, fruity flavor, and slight wineyness, or at least the official Barley Wines do. This one was home-brewed by a Cealdish man who had run out of scutten. He did his best, of course, and all I know is that one bottle of it knocks me back like I'm on a kicking Kaepcaen!"

 _Snip_. Despite the constant trimming, the cloud of butterflies seemed no less populous than it had been before. "And why do you bring this up?"

"Because Barley Wine isn't actually a wine. Get this; it's a type of Ale! You know, the barley-brewed drinks that everyone in the Commonwealth adores, at least until they have the coin to get something better?" He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a second bottle, this one tarnished and fogged. " _This_ ," he said, wiggling the tarnished one, "is an Aturan Ale." He wrinkled his nose at it. "I won't describe its' taste because, frankly, it's not very good."

 _Snip_. _Snip_. "Although this talk is entertaining, I wish you would get on with your point."

Elodin smiled up at the tree. "If you can see the future, you should know where I'm taking this."

"I prefer the illusion of conversation."

"Alrighty then! These are different drinks, correct?" Elodin took the snipping of another butterfly to mean agreement. "They look different, taste different, smell different…In all ways they're different."

 _Snip_. "But…?"

"But they'll both eventually get you to singing new verses of _Tinker Tanner_ and running around the archives wearing nothing but the apron of the Master Artificer. Or so I've heard. Moving on." Elodin put both bottles down and pulled a Tehlin necklace from his pocket. The very air seemed to bristle at the presence of the tiny iron wheel at the end of the silver chain. "I think we can both agree that the Tehlins are full of shit. They believe that Tehlu is god."

 _Snip_. "You do not agree?"

"Absolutely not. In the beginning, before the Creation War, there was just one thing: Aleph."

The Cthaeh made an impressed grunting noise. Or perhaps it was just a particularly vicious snipping. "You know much, for a human."

Elodin attempted an exaggerated bow, but as he was still sitting cross-legged it looked more like a drunken slump (which was not particularly out of the question). "So, Aleph. The creator. The first. The big guy." Elodin's smile became the grin of a philosophy teacher about to shatter his class's concept of reality. " _What was he made of_?"

 _Sni_ … A single wing fell to the ground, and a struggling, one-winged butterfly followed a moment later. There was silence in the shade of the tree. The butterflies floated about aimlessly. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Cthaeh spoke. "Such things are beyond our comprehension, little one."

Elodin laughed. It was keening. It was triumphant. It was fae-tinged. "WRONG!" He clapped his hands and leaped to his feet so he could dance a little jig, accidentally knocking over the bottle of Barley Wine, which he rushed to snatch up before too much could spill.

There was no snip. "Explain yourself."

"Just a moment," Elodin said as he recorked the Barley Wine and set it back in the basket, "I'd like to bring in a teaching assistant, if it would please you?"

 _Snip_. "You have a fae assistant?"

Elodin smiled innocently up through the cloud of butterflies. "Nope. Human."

"The moon is in your sky. There is no way for a human to cross over."

"Oh, codswallop! It's not like you've ever tried, Mr. 'I'm stuck in a tree.' Once you figure out the right method, it's as simple as stealing the moon. Observe."

Elodin turned on his heel and marched to the edge of the charred ground. He held up his left hand with the index finger extended. He spoke a word and drew his hand downward as if he were cutting a cake. The air opened as his finger passed, splitting like fabric to scissors. Beyond the split lay the mortal night. Beyond the split stood squat grey buildings and a towering edifice. Beyond the split were tiled rooftops and chimneys. Beyond the split stood Auri, her golden hair hanging about her like the butterflies around the Cthaeh.

"Hello, Master Elodin," she said shyly, her hands clasped behind her back, "I have brought you gifts. May I come in?"

Elodin smiled and made a sweeping gesture with his left arm, stepping aside and bowing in a way that only a veteran doorman could have managed. Auri skipped into the Fae, shivering slightly as she passed through the split air. "Oh." She stopped short and stared into the cloud of butterflies. "Hello."

 _Snip_. "And who is-"

"Ah-ah!" Elodin butted in, "Don't ask for names. Names are a problem."

"I am called Auri. Kvothe made me the name." She still spoke only to the butterflies.

Elodin stepped towards the shadow of the tree. "Auri, if you would join me on the picnic blanket I have some gifts for you as well."

"Wait!" her voice was shrill and urgent. Elodin stopped in his tracks, one foot resting in the shade, one on the scorched remnant of the plain. "We have to ask for permission first."

She looked back into the butterflies. "May I enter your shade?"

 _Snip_. "Do as you will."

Auri needed no further invitation, skipping to the blanket with no apparent effort. Her hair trailed behind her, then floated in the air as she dropped lightly down onto the picnic blanket. Elodin followed her, taking a seat opposite her with the tree to his right and the basket to his left.

"Master Elodin," Auri said, serious and composed, "I have brought you two things; a stone that can see and a name."

"Thank you, Auri. I have two things for you as well; a name and a lesson." He held up the bottle of Barley Wine. "And a drink, but we can share that!"

And so they did, eating in silence and smiles as the Cthaeh continued to pluck wings from the shimmering cloud above them.

Finally, Elodin signaled his satisfaction with a sigh and stood, stretching his long arms and legs like a cat rising from a nap. He looked up at the tree.

"You have questions. Consider me your teacher."

 _Snip_. "I don't ask questions of those who are beneath me."

Elodin cocked his head and counted with his fingers. "That's ten words. You're still trying."

"Ten words?" Auri frowned ever so slightly.

"Just as there are seven words to make a woman love you, there are ten words to break a man's will. The Cthaeh often speaks in ten word phrases, or so I've been told."

"But earlier he told me to do as I will, and nothing else. That's only four words."  
Elodin smiled happily, evidently pleased with the young woman's observation. "Exactly! Which raises a very important question for Mr. Cthaeh here…" His dark eyes seemed to bore through the canopy. "Why are you changing your methods?"

The Cthaeh was silent for a time, and hesitated when it finally spoke. "Why…Why can I not bend you? Why is the future dark to me?"

Elodin planted his hands on his hips. "Because the moment you spoke with my Re'lar, your future was decided." The world went still, and nothing seemed to exist but his voice. It was like distant thunder; a promise of darkness, of pain. "You can't worm your way out of this one. The future has solidified. You guaranteed your death the moment you hurt my boy."

Auri, standing now, took one slow step away from Elodin. He didn't seem to notice. "But I'm not going to kill you straight off. No… I'm going to make it interesting. I'm going to force you to understand the truth. When you finally die, you will know that it was me, Elodin of the University, who ended you. You will die _wishing_ you could scream."

And suddenly the world resumed. Auri took a deep breath as though she had been holding it for a long time. Elodin smiled again, chipper as a schoolboy. "So let's teach you a lesson, shall we?" He spun on his heel and nodded to Auri. She nodded as well and began to rummage through the large wicker basket.

"Where were we? Ah yes! Aleph." Elodin gestured expansively, looking for all the world like a man trying to hug the sky. "Creator of all. Spun the nameless void into shape."

Auri resurfaced from the large basket with the two bottles of ale, one in each hand. She flitted to Elodin's side and handed him the homebrewed bottle, keeping the tarnished Aturan for herself, before drawing a small box from a cleverly-disguised pocket of her dress. Elodin bowed his head in thanks, sending a few browned leaves drifting to the butterfly wings below.

"So, Mr. Cthaeh," Elodin said cheerily. "Are you ready to learn?"

 _Snip_. "Do I have a choice?"  
"Hahaha! No!" Elodin lifted his bottle in one hand, and Auri followed suit with hers. "I talked earlier about the differences between these two drinks. One is called Barley Wine and the other is called Ale, but in the end they're more similar than they are different."

The Cthaeh made another grumbling noise. "How does this relate to…"

"Because," Elodin said, a mad twinkle in his eyes, "these two drinks represent the Fae and the mortal world. Both are different to taste, but their basic properties remain the same. Sure, the Fae may have strange magic and logic-defying creatures, but it shares the same basic building blocks as the mortal world."  
 _Snip_. "Building blocks?"

Elodin lowered his raised hand and took a sip from the bottle. "In the case of these drinks, the basic shared property is alcohol. In the case of our two worlds, the shared properties are harder to explain. I like to think of them as 'stuff' and 'not-stuff'. Stuff is what makes up everything, and not-stuff is like the void from which Aleph spun the world."

He reached down and lifted the large wicker picnic basket. "The two are woven together like this basket." He cocked his head sideways and gave a mock grimace. "Of course, it's a whole lot more complicated than that because the two can't touch, lest the void retake the stuff that was once its own. Violently."

Elodin set the basket on the ground again before beckoning towards Auri. She set her bottle back in the basket and straightened up, opening the lid of the small box in her hands as she did so. Inside lay a pointed, arrowhead-shaped stone. Its tip was stained brown with dried blood. The _snip_ -ing of the Cthaeh came to a sudden stop. The air around them bristled.

"Here," Elodin said calmly, pointing at the stone, "is the stone you used to put out your eyes, Selitos Far-seer. This is our proof that you are a product of Aleph's weaving, that you too are made of stuff and not-stuff."

"How do you know all of this? How could you _possibly_ have discovered my identity?"  
"You'd be surprised what you can find in the deeper places of the world."

A thin smile played across Auri's pale features. "The Underthing hides many secrets, but not from me."

The butterflies flitted about aimlessly, free from their constant trimming. "How does this knowledge benefit you, mortals? I am still beyond your power."

Auri shook her head solemnly. "No you aren't. We are the greatest namers since there were names to be spoken."

"Speaking of which," said Elodin, "that leads into my next point. Some say that Aleph created all of the names of the world, but that isn't quite right. The names came before, and Aleph merely learned them, spinning substance from void. Before even the names, though, came their parts."

"And you propose to know these…parts?"

"Yes," Auri said, smiling proudly. "Yes, we know them. One for each of us. Presents from Kvothe."

"You know, of course, that he opened that box," Elodin said. "And he found too much inside for any one person. He gave away what he could, of course, like the good Re'lar that he is. He told us the secret."  
"The secret of the name," Auri said.

"The building blocks of the building blocks. The Three Syllables."

"The first three points of creation," Auri said, "the first three letters of the First One's name."

"The letter for stuff, the letter of not-stuff, and a binding letter to stand between the two, holding them apart lest unfortunate things happen: energy. The very fibers of magic. Funnily enough…" Elodin took a swig from the bottle in his hand. "…Those letters spell out Ale."

The Cthaeh said nothing.

"Keep the silence you sack of shit," said Elodin.

He met Auri's eyes and they shared a nod before opening their mouths and breathing stillness into the world.

" _Ah_." Said Elodin.

" _Ei_." Said Auri.

The bright, perpetually noonday sun dimmed in comparison to the blinding light that burst from between the leaves of the tree. For a few moments the Cthaeh's formless body was a sun all of its own, void and substance vanishing into one another and leaving naught but energy in their wake. The butterflies dissolved silently into the light. The tree followed, then the charred plain. Elodin and Auri vanished in the blinding white.

Chronicler set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He was quiet for some time, the silence he left filled by Elodin's drumming fingers atop the wooden table.

"That's….quite a story." He finally said. "Did you have to tell it in the third person, though?"  
Elodin fixed him with a look of supreme boredom. "Did I ask for your criticism?"

"Fair enough," Chronicler said, dabbing stray ink away with a cloth. "Though I am curious how you survived the destruction of the tree."

"Oh, it's simple enough. I had done some experiments before going after the bastard. Just testing the damage I could do. Mostly in Hemme's rooms." He smiled a cheery smile. "It'll take _years_ to fix that mess." His face grew somber. "Auri has always been a better namer than me, so she volunteered to name the void. I took substance. We planned ahead, thinking we could use the two to transport ourselves back into the mortal world. It worked, but we brought the rest of the Fae with us."  
"I see. That explains the-"  
"Yep."

"And how the-"  
"Oh _especially_ that. The boy still blames himself for it. Calls himself "kingkiller" now."

"Oh my."  
"That's what I said." Elodin sighed and looked around, taking in the charred building around them. Only the table and chairs they now sat at were free of fire damage, with what few parts of the building still stood being charred almost beyond recognition. It had been a nice establishment, once, with a three-tiered balcony and wide stage, always filled with music and merriment.

Chronicler sorted his things away and stood, his feet crunching softly in the ash. "So what will you do now?"

Elodin stood as well, stretching like a waking cat. "I suppose I'll go looking for Kvothe. Try to explain to him how only some of this is his fault. How about you, baldy? What's your plan?"

Chronicler rubbed his head self-consciously as they made their way through the ruined front door of the Eolian. The once-beautiful plaza outside was as scarred as the building, its cobblestones shattered as if struck from the sky by a giant's fist. "I think I'll go looking for him too. We can cover more ground like that. I'd also like to hear his side of the story."

Elodin nodded appraisingly. "His is probably more coherent."

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, in that case," Elodin said, holding out his hand, "Safe travels. Watch out for giant spiders."

"Do I have to worry about those?" Chronicler asked, taking Elodin's outstretched hand.

"You never know. Always good to be on the lookout." The young master strolled off, stopping next to the ruined fountain. "Oh, and Chronicler?"

"Yes?"  
Elodin grinned like a schoolboy and spat into the dry basin of the fountain.

"Remember to spit for luck!"


End file.
